


Hitching

by Setcheti



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Ambiguous/Open Ending, April Showers 2015, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was highly improbable that anyone would be around to pick up his little distress signal...but improbability was exactly what he was counting on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitching

**Author's Note:**

> This story, as will become obvious shortly, was a Work In Progress (WIP) that sort of became a one-shot and then laid down right there and said it wasn't moving again. Which it hasn't, for years. Still, if you like the Hitchhiker’s Guide series, you should enjoy it all the same.

The most recent of Dr. Weir’s recent string of pointless and ultimately worthless mandatory staff meetings was over, and no one still had any decent ideas what to do about the oncoming horde of Wraith. Rodney McKay walked into his lab and locked the door behind him, then sat down at one of the worktables and pulled something out of his jacket – something he’d detoured by his quarters to retrieve not five minutes before.  He’d be carrying it with him from now on, everywhere, all the time.   He rummaged around on the table until he found the connector he wanted, fastened it to the little metallic device and then hooked the other end of it into his laptop.  A diagnostic appeared on the screen; he changed several important values and ran two tests to make sure everything was functioning properly…and then he gave the device a twist to activate it and smiled tiredly when it flashed a few colored indicators at him and then started to pulse with soft yellow light.  


Back to the diagnostic, and the yellow pulsing stopped although the device remained active.  Rodney disconnected his device from the laptop and tucked it back inside his jacket, smiling at the feeling of the electric pulse of it through his shirt.  It was highly improbable that anyone would be around to pick up his little distress signal…but improbability was exactly what he was counting on. 

 

Atlantis was humming with activity.  The Wraith were barely a week away, and everyone in the city was rushing to find a solution to it.  Elizabeth Weir was starting to lose hope that they would, but she considered it part of her duty as commander of the mission to keep that feeling to herself.  So every day she made a point of circling the inhabited parts of the city and checking in on each and every team, offering encouragement where she could and shifting personnel around when she thought tensions were running too high.  McKay’s team, what was left of it, especially; just three days previous she’d had to have Dr. Kavenaugh physically removed from the main lab when rising tempers sparked by stress and too little sleep had spawned what could only be described as a lynch mob.  McKay hadn’t been part of it, but once the noise had drawn him out of his own lab he had tried to stop it and in fact had been the one who’d told _her_ to call for some backup.  He’d pulled Dr. Zelenka out of the fray himself and used his larger mass to pin the smaller scientist against the nearest wall until he’d calmed down enough to be let go. 

Elizabeth knew what had calmed Zelenka down.  McKay had been holding his upper arms in a firm grip, but then he’d leaned his forehead against the wall he was holding the Czech scientist against and closed his eyes with a sigh that seemed to have all the weariness in the world in it.  “Please, Radek,” he’d said quietly, so quietly that Elizabeth almost hadn’t heard it.  “We don’t have time for this.” 

Zelenka’s anger had crumbled immediately, and he’d looked up into his department head’s exhaustion-lined face with narrowed, assessing eyes before sighing himself and shaking his head.  “You’re right, of course,” he’d replied, and managed a small, sheepish smile for the blue eye that opened to look down at him.  “But you can’t deny using him as punching bag vould be good for morale.” 

Rodney had chuckled and let him go, straightening up from his lean and stretching.  “No, I can’t deny that.  But it’s not conductive to saving our asses from approaching doom at the moment either – and believe me, if I thought it was I’d have already chopped that ponytail off and beaten him to death with it.” 

That had made Zelenka laugh, and then the two of them had waded back into the mob and pulled out a few more people, and after that the soldiers had shown up and broken up what was left of the fight.  Kavenaugh had still been ranting at everyone, demanding that everyone else in the lab be charged with assault and maintaining that none of them were going to be able to save the city, so Elizabeth had told Bates to put him in a cell for a few hours until he cooled off.  She’d rolled her eyes when he’d protested, and stepped close so she was speaking directly to him and no one else.  “I’m probably saving your life, Doctor,” she’d informed him.  “You can thank me later.” 

He hadn’t, of course, but he also hadn’t caused any more problems and that was enough for Elizabeth.  She’d been keeping a closer eye on the physics and engineering teams since, though; in fact, she’d just chased about half of them out of the main lab for a break they hadn’t wanted to take.  She’d been ready to chase McKay out too…but when she’d gotten to the half-open door to his lab and seen him slouched over with his head pillowed on his arms next to his laptop she’d realized that he was already taking a break, albeit an inadvertent one.  She was still debating whether to wake him and make him go back to his quarters when Major Sheppard had come up behind her, taken one look inside the lab and then pulled her away from the door.  “Let him sleep,” he said, apparently reading her mind.  “You wake him up right now, he’ll just go back to work.” 

“You’re probably right,” she sighed back, and then the two of them headed up to her office to discuss more options for evacuation.  

A few minutes after they left, however, Rodney sat upright with a start.  He rubbed his eyes, reaching into his jacket with his other hand and fishing out his little device.  The vibration had changed, and the little lights were blinking frantically at him…and for the first time in weeks, he smiled.  Rodney slid off his stool and held the device up in the air, thumbing a sensor on one side that made the device pulse a bright yellow. 

And then there was a flash of light, and he vanished. 

 

It was two hours before anyone noticed Rodney was missing, and almost another hour before they determined that he wasn’t anywhere on Atlantis.  There was no sign of a struggle anywhere, no sign of Wraith anywhere…they even used the sensors to check underwater, and for unusual energy readings or anomalies in the city’s power grid.  Nothing.  He was just gone. 

Weir and Sheppard disappeared thirty minutes later, but they weren’t alarmed by this – they weren’t alarmed by it because they, of course, were where they had disappeared to and so were alarmed for an entirely different reason.  They found themselves standing on what looked like the bridge of a good-sized ship, a ship whose forward viewscreen showed a lovely wide-angle panoramic view of Atlantis and the starry space around her.  There was a man lounging – there was really no other word for it – in a swivel chair in front of the screen with his feet propped up on a control console, and he greeted them with a big smile.  “Hey, how’s it going?” 

Weir was too disconcerted by the fact that the man was smiling at her twice to answer immediately, but Sheppard got over it quicker.  “It’s been better,” he answered, pretending not to be amazed when one of the man’s heads kept smiling and nodded politely while the other one rolled its eyes.  He decided to address the polite head and hope for the best.  “Hey, I don’t suppose you beamed up one of our people a few hours ago, did you?” 

The man grinned at him in a way that was worrisome, mainly because it was the sort of grin axe murderers have when they’re discussing how best to cook a forty-year old matron and whether or not the stew will freeze well.  “I suppose I did,” he said, lounging a little more.  “He was Thumbing a ride, not something you see too much of out here in the mad backwater, if you know what I mean.  It was really highly improbable that anyone would ever have come this way to pick him up.” 

“That’s exactly how I knew you’d be by.”  The familiar voice from behind them had Weir and Sheppard spinning around.  Their missing scientist had just come onto the ship’s bridge, and he immediately detoured around them to shove the other man’s feet off the console so he could adjust something.  “Hey guys.  Did you miss me?” 

Now it was Sheppard’s turn to goggle.  This wasn’t the same scientist in the wrinkled tan and blue uniform he’d last seen napping on a worktable;  McKay was wearing black now, some sort of  nearly formfitting outfit made out of something with a dull rubberish sheen to it.  It wasn’t streamlined enough to be a wetsuit, in fact it reminded Sheppard of a flight suit in some ways.  And it looked to have some sort of circuitry embedded in it near the seams of the arms and legs but less visible everywhere else.  “Rodney, is there something you’d like to…um, tell us?” 

The scientist rolled his eyes at the two-headed man.  “Didn’t introduce yourself, eh?”  When the man grinned again Rodney turned his attention back to Weir and Sheppard.  “This is Zaphod Beeblebrox the First, ex-president of the galaxy.  He’s a friend of the family, he happened to be in the neighborhood, and once I’ve got his ship working correctly again he’s agreed to give us a hand with our own mess.” 

Weir found her voice and didn’t quite squeak, “President of _this_ galaxy?” 

“No, of yours, sweets.”  Zaphod’s smile was a little less worrisome and a lot more flirtatious now.  “Does that impress you?” 

“Ignore him, he’s a dirty old man,” Rodney advised before she could come up with an answer, and rolled his eyes at Zaphod.  “Aren’t you?” 

“Oh yes, definitely.”  The smile became a leer on both heads.  “I enjoy it immensely.  And your father thought I had great big brassy ones, boy.” 

Rodney rolled his eyes again.  “My father thought you were nuts,” he countered, but the correction was familiar, even affectionate; this was obviously old ground between them.  “Now why don’t you patch in to the communications on Atlantis so these two can warn everyone, and then I’ll start bringing people up – into the cargo hold,” he tacked on quickly.  “We can’t have them running all over the ship, most of them are just smart enough to be dangerous.” 

Sheppard couldn’t help but grin himself at that one.  He wandered a little closer to the control console, watching the two-headed ex-president fiddle around with the controls that supposedly would connect them to Atlantis’ communications system.  And he was fiddling, almost aimlessly, as though he’d learned how to operate things by hit and miss.  “So…how long have you had this ship, Mr. President?” he finally asked. 

Head Number Two, intent on the controls, didn’t respond; but Head Number One turned on its neck to look up at him.  “Since before Roddy here was a gleam in his daddy’s eye,” it said with a wink.  “From the first time I saw the _Heart of Gold_ , I knew she was going to be mine.  It was absolutely love at first sight, mate.” 

“The Heart of Gold, that’s her name?”  Head Number One jerked in the direction of the second seat at the controls and Sheppard slid into it.  The seat obligingly adjusted itself to make him just slightly more comfortable than he thought he ought to be in mixed company, and after a moment of surprise he gave in and enjoyed it.  “She’s a beauty.  What can she do?” 

Head Number Two grunted.  “Anything I want her to, and a few things that I probably haven’t thought of yet.”  Zaphod waved a careless hand in Rodney’s direction.  “He’s better at fixing her than I am, though.” 

Weir re-entered the conversation at that point.  “Just how long have you and Dr. McKay known each other?” she wanted to know.  “He’s certainly never mentioned you.” 

“Oh Elizabeth, one of my godfathers is a two-headed womanizing ex-president of the galaxy,” Rodney sing-songed without looking up from what he was doing.  “I’m sure that would have gone over really well.” 

Zaphod chuckled – with both heads.  “You sound just like Arthur, boy.  All right, kiddies, communications are patched in.  Just press the red button and go for it.” 

Sheppard shrugged and pressed the button.  “Atlantis, can you hear me?” he asked. 

He heard a confused babble, and then Dr. Grodin’s smooth accented tenor asked tentatively, “Major Sheppard?” 

“Yeah.  And Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir are here with me – here being in orbit above the planet in a ship called the _Heart of Gold_.  The cavalry has arrived, everyone; we’re being rescued.” 

Weir moved in behind him.  “This is Dr. Weir.  Department heads, please get your people ready to move out as quickly as possible.  I don’t know how much room we’re going to have, but we’ll most likely be leaving with only what we can carry.  Major Sheppard or I will contact you again as soon as we know what our timeline for evacuation is.” 

“Sergeant Bates, Lieutenant Ford, make sure everything stays orderly,” Sheppard ordered.  “We’ll check in again ASAP, Sheppard out.”  He hit the red button again and lounged – he couldn’t help it – back in his chair.  “So Rodney, if this is your godfather…what planet were you born on?” 

Rodney snorted.  “Earth.  But I was conceived in midair at four thousand feet, in full view of TWA flight 442 coming in to London Heathrow.” 

Sheppard goggled at him.  “Midair at four thousand feet?” 

“Yeah.”  The astrophysicist shrugged.  “Apparently some little old lady saw the whole thing, but nobody believed her so it was just widely reported in the tabloids.  Dad moved us to Canada and changed our family name after that, or so he says; Mom always said he did it to keep her loony family from figuring out where we lived.” 

“Um, so…”  Sheppard was floundering.  “What planet was your _dad_ from?” 

Rodney gave him a look and rolled his eyes.  “Earth.  And so was my mother,” he said before Sheppard could open his mouth again.  “We’re all completely human.” 

“Humans can’t fly,” came from Weir.  “So somebody must not be…” 

“Oh babe, _anyone_ can fly – if they’re distracted enough,” Zaphod contradicted her with another leer.  “I bet I could have you off the ground in no time.” 

Weir didn’t seem to know what to say to that.  Rodney rolled his eyes again.  “Flying is mostly a matter of throwing yourself at the ground and missing,” he said.  “As long as you stay distracted, you stay in the air – it’s that simple.” 

“You can fly,” Sheppard ventured. “Without a plane or anything, you can fly.” 

“I haven’t done it in years,” was Rodney’s answer. “Wouldn’t exactly have been a good idea to do that while I was working for the NID.” 

“Not _Nid_ ,” Zaphod exclaimed, both mouths dropping open. “I thought Arthur was having me on about that!” 

“No, he wasn’t – I wanted to work with the Stargate, they had access to the Stargate.” Rodney shrugged. “They may be evil bastards, but they have all the best toys.” 

“I’m tellin’ Ford.” 

Rodney snorted. “He already knows. He said I was crazy and to have fun, and he gave me his Thumb and orders to write up Atlantis for the Guide since the last update was over ten thousand years ago. I’ve been sending him what I could.” 

Weir was set spluttering again by that. “You had a way to contact Earth all this time…” 

“Oh Elizabeth, I have an electronic guidebook with intergalactic wireless service, did you want to send anyone a message?” Rodney sing-songed again. “Really, you’re making it far too easy for me to mock you, put a little more effort into it.” 

“Cranky.” Zaphod shook his finger at him. “As soon as she’s fixed, you’re goin’ down for a nap, Roddy boy.” 

“Good idea,” Sheppard agreed, watching the pretty vista of Atlantis swing by below them. “He hasn’t slept, really slept, in days,” he told Zaphod. “He could use a nap. I’ll help with the ship.” 

“Oh god, that is all we need; we’ll end up at an intergalactic bordello for sure,” Rodney moaned. “One Zaphod and one Kirk, joy.”  

**Author's Note:**

> That's all, folks! Feel free to take it further on your own if you want.


End file.
